


Easing

by distractionpie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian respects Bull's enthusiasm for dragons, but, maker, indulging it leaves him tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zythepsary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zythepsary/gifts).



Dorian wakes stiffer and sorer than he's been before in his life. For a moment he wonders what happened to get him in such a shape, but as he slowly blinks his eyes open and stares up at the shadowed canvas roof of a tent and the events of the previous day return to him.

With Corypheus dead, the Inquisitor had finally been able to divert inquisition resources towards rebuilding Judicael's crossing and had decided to examine the ruins beyond, a process that had involved taking down not one, not two, but three dragons – without any of their usual pauses for recuperation between battles. A worthy cause no doubt, both because dragons were a menace and because their parts would sell at a high price, necessary now because the lack of any immediate threat meant that donations to the Inquisition were dropping away. But being worthwhile didn’t change the fact that the battles had been strenuous, particularly the third in which Dorian's well-honed fire spells had been useless. By the end Dorian had wanted nothing more than to be transported back to Skyhold and a rest up in a proper bed, but Bull had been ecstatic and desperate to celebrate such a phenomenal conquest and despite his reservations Dorian had found it hard to resist being swept up in Bull's enthusiasm.

It had been a glorious evening to honour a glorious kill.

Now though, Dorian is remembering that he is not as young as he once was. When he moves he can feel an ache in his back that radiates through him with every shift of muscle and at some point during the night his blankets have ended up half tangled, half tossed across the test - it's too damn cold to go with without them but he’s not sure he can muster the strength to fetch them back. He presses his arms against the bedroll pushing himself up as far as his elbows before giving up and flopping back down with a groan. Conjuring fire in a tent is too dangerous, Dorian’s control is good but such spells can get out of hand so easily and if the walls of the tent catch alight, he’ll have an ignoble end. Instead, he's going to freeze to death. Wonderful.

As if summoned by his irritation, the tent flap slips sideways as Bull nudges his head inside, horns first. "You up?" he asks.

"No."

Dorian feels he does a pretty job of conveying with that one word how far he is from up and how unlikely that situation is to change any time soon.

Bull chuckles. Infuriating man.

He ducks back out of the tent and Dorian huffs discontentedly. If he'd been a little smarter he would have asked Bull to at least shuffle the blankets back towards Dorian before departing, so as to prevent his imminent demise.

A few moments later through, the tent flap moves again and this time Bull enters fully, carrying with him a dish piled high with fruits and nuts and the strange hard traveling cheese that the Inquisitor favours so much.

"Worn out from yesterday?" Bull asks, and even manages to keep mostly from smirking. "Hell, three dragons were a lot, even for me."

Dorian nods. "I'm exhausted," he pauses, and then throws a wistful glance in the direction of the blankets. "And it's cold."

Bull grins, "Y'know what'll warm you up?" he says.

Dorian supposes it was too much to hope that Bull would be sympathetic for long, and twitches his fingers threateningly. "If you're about to suggest any sort of vigorous activity..." he says. He won’t conjure fire in the tent but there’s plenty he can do to make his displeasure clear to Bull without putting either of them in danger.

Bull just laughs. "Sit up," he says and Dorian makes a grudging second attempt, levering himself as far as his elbows.

Bull raises and eyebrow and Dorian raises both of his right back. "I am tired," he explains emphatically.

Placing the plate on the ground, Bull lifts Dorian's torso a little higher and slips in behind him, settling his legs on either side of Dorian and letting Dorian lay back to rest his head against the generous expanse of Bull's stomach. Dorian tried resting his head against Bull's chest before, but for all Krem's quips about pillowy man bosoms, Bull's pectoral muscles are too well toned to make for good cushions. This, though, is good. Bull puts out heat like a hearth and seems also entirely unaffected by even the grimmest weather. It makes no sense for somebody who's come from climes even more northern than Dorian, but he won't question his blessings. Bull's thick thighs heat him on each side where they’re pressed against Dorian and he can feel the tension ease out of his muscles as he sinks into Bull’s embrace. Bull’s hand cards gently through his hair and despite his aches Dorian presses upwards into the touch, causing Bull to murmur, "Look at you purring like some pampered pet,” pausing before adding, “Like an Orlesian lap nug."

Dorian swats at him and he can feel the rumble of Bull's responding laugh as the man says, "Okay, not a nug, what else do they have?"

Rabbits and peacocks, Dorian thinks, which are hardly much more flattering comparisons. In Tevinter the trend was for snakes and exotic birds, and of course Fereldans were even faithful to their hounds. With nothing better to offer he grumbles, "I am simply worn out by the company of a ridiculous oaf who thinks that dragon fights ought to be followed up with outlandish acrobatics."

"You weren't complaining about any of those acrobatics last night," Bull teases, and he's right. Even now, Dorian can't muster any sort of significant annoyance, he aches but it's a well-earned one, and if that ache gets him here then it's well worth the effort.

Bull hand slips out of Dorian’s hair and towards his neck, broad thumbs working slowly at the knots of tension found there as Bull hums some unfamiliar tune.

Dorian’s eyes slip shut, blocking out the dimly lit tent in favour of focusing on Bull’s careful soothing touches as the man chases away his aches.

He doesn’t even notice himself falling asleep.


End file.
